The Adventures of Slattern and Prig
by Piazzolla Pie
Summary: <html><head></head>As a last resort, Aveline is forced to turn to Isabela for help when Kirkwall's answer to Jack the Ripper begins stalking the streets of Hightown. *Aveline/Isabela/Merrill* No, NOT like that! Although... Okay, probably not like that.</html>
1. CutThroats & CutPurses

**Author's Note: **This is a short intro to my first Dragon Age fic. Written yesterday on my iPod, purely for my own amusement at work, so I'm struggling to take any of this too seriously.  
><strong>Timeline:<strong> I'm trying to keep spoilers and unnecessary details to a minimum so that you've more freedom regarding when you assume this little quest took place.  
><strong>Beta(s): <strong>No Beta, and with only one playthrough under my belt, I'm certain to have missed a hundred things and dug some pretty deep plot holes for myself. All mistakes are my own, so please point them out. Reviews, comments and especially brutal criticism are very much appreciated.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Oh, BioWare, you have such pretty things, and never shall they be mine.

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><p>"Admit it, big girl," Isabela smirked. "You. Need. My. Help." she gloated, punctuating each word with a sharp jab to Aveline's chest plate.<p>

The former soldier sighed as she slumped down into her seat at the table Isabela had secured for them next to the dying fire. Well, when she said table, what she really meant was a rotting barrel with a shabby tablecloth draped over it. And when she said tablecloth, what she really meant was a heavily stained scrap of material that she wouldn't make even a nug set its meal on. _Probably the sail of some ill-fated ship dredged up at the docks_, she mused, burying her face in her hands as the pirate also pulled up a chair.

Here she was, Captain of the bloody Guard, reduced to asking this slattern for... for _help_.

With weary resignation, Aveline washed down her pride with a large gulp of brandy and nodded at the woman opposite. She had a cast-iron rule to keep a clear head while on duty, but this wasn't official business. Nor was it pleasure; that much was clear, but she was running out of options, fast. He was going to strike again, and soon.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm simply _thrilled _to be of service to the city," Isabela drawled into her pipe, "but why have you come to me? Fallen out with Hawke, have we?"

"It's because of your _services _to the city that I need you," Aveline told her dryly.

"Oh, so you _need _me now, do you? And the plot thickens," Isabela winked, swinging her legs up to rest on the tabletop.

"Shut up, whore."

"I have better things to be doing than taking cheap shots from you, you know. I could just leave if you'd like," Isabela frowned, but then crossed her boots at the ankles. _Lady Man-Hands can be the one to piss off.  
><em>  
>"I don't doubt that you have other things to be <em>doing<em>. What I do doubt is that they could ever be described as _better_," the Guard-Captain scoffed before casting a wary glance around the dingy tavern. "But leaving does sound like a good idea, now that you mention it."

"Does this establishment not meet your high standards? Oh, I do apologise, _Captain_." Isabela mocked. As much as she hated to admit it, the former sea captain had a lot of respect for Aveline, regardless of what she said about her. Of course, that didn't stop her feeling bitter about the weight Aveline's title carried in comparison with her own. Without her ship, people saw her as nothing. She was beginning to _feel _like nothing. Perhaps she should hear Aveline out and - who knows? - maybe even do a little good. Given that the price is right, naturally.

"You know it's not that," Aveline shook her head. "Although..." she began, tilting her head in the direction of a drunken patron who was... was he? Yes, he was pissing against the bar. "Lovely," she cringed. Isabela simply laughed.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Not too popular with the cut-throats and cut-purses around here, are you? Not that I blame them. _I_ wouldn't like to see a righteous, red-haired golem hulking towards me down a dark alleyway, either," the Rivaini shook her head, ignoring Aveline as she rolled her eyes, though she paid enough attention to notice that the captain didn't bother to come up with a retort this time. _A victory, however small_, she smiled.

Unfortunately, there was a rather large element of truth to what Isabela had said. Since her promotion, Aveline had really turned things around in Kirkwall – respect and morale amid her guardsmen was at an all-time high, and increased patrols to areas that actually needed them ensured that citizens and refugees alike were a lot safer, even if they were being saved from each other. Maker, even the Alienage's residents were starting to realise that the guards kept out more trouble than they tracked in.

But there were some people who _liked_ trouble.

Cracking down on crime earned Aveline no favours from the shady characters of Lowtown, and it showed. Everywhere she went, people either turned their backs to her or outright stared, and the treatment she received here at the Hanged Man was no different. Not that she expected a warmer welcome here, of course. In fact, she'd already taken this into account, but she couldn't leave an anonymous letter instructing Isabela to come to an abandoned warehouse, alone, in the middle of the night, could she? And neither of them would be overjoyed at the prospect of discussing this back at the barracks – it was difficult enough to make Isabela set foot in Hightown without leaving a trail of sovereigns for her to follow, let alone drag her into a building full of armed guards. No, if Aveline wanted Isabela on board with this, she'd have to show a little initiative and venture into the pirate's squalid territory, no matter the sizeable dent it put in her pride.

"Wait, you're actually worried about being overheard, aren't you?" Isabela's eyes lit up as she watched Aveline's suspicious gaze flicker over the tavern's colourful clientèle.

"That obvious, huh?" Aveline offered a sheepish grin. "I just don't want to cause widespread panic before I know what we're dealing with. You know how fast rumours spread down here and, judging by people's enthusiastic recitation of Varric's tall tales, folks will believe anything."

"Do you want to go somewhere more private?" Isabela asked. "My room's paid up until the end of the year, might as well make good use of it."

"I... I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that," Aveline blinked.

"What? I didn't mea- _ughh_!" the pirate shuddered. "Yes, I _never _said that."

"Said what?"

"That's my girl."

The Guard-Captain finished the last of her drink and rose from the battered chair, taking one last look around before heading towards the door. Isabela followed suit, grabbing the half-empty bottle of Antivan brandy from the table on the way. _Waste not, want not_.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Aveline exhaled as she exited the filthy inn. The air was stale, and merely a different breed of foul, but at least there was a refreshing chill to it.

"Whatever this is... it's bad, isn't it?" the Rivaini asked as she stepped out into the darkness with her companion.

"Yes, Isabela. It's bad."


	2. Dirty Back Passages

"So, are you going to tell me what all of this is about?" Isabela grumbled as Aveline lead her down one dark alleyway after another. The smuggler was familiar with almost every ominous divergence in Lowtown, but a single wrong turn in this labyrinth and even she would be lost.

"Just a little further," the Guard-Captain murmured as she turned one last corner. She didn't waste time in looking back, already knowing that the pirate was still trailing behind; she could hear her dragging her boots in the dust and sloshing the rapidly emptying brandy bottle around like an insolent child. "Here," Aveline stopped abruptly, cursing as Isabela stepped on her heels.

"This is just a dead end, isn't it?" the dark-haired woman asked, squinting in the low light. "There's nobody here."

"I should hope not," the corners of Aveline's mouth twitched upwards into a small smile as she felt Isabela straighten up behind her, probably putting two and two together and coming up with 'backstabbing bitch'. "Relax," she chuckled, "I just wanted to be sure we were alone."

"Aveline Vallen, I hadn't the faintest idea you felt that way about me!" the duelist feigned surprise. "Not that I can blame you, of course, just-" she began, but was cut off by an elbow to the ribs.. "C-come on, you handed that one t-to me on a platter!" she spluttered.

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back against the marred wall. All of this was starting to give her a headache.

"...So?" Isabela drummed her fingers against the flask.

"There's been a spate of murders," the red-head sighed after a few moments.

"What, in this town? Shocking," Isabela was unimpressed. Despite the best efforts of both the guards and Hawke's little party, the city was still rife with crime – it just happened behind closed doors now. This was common knowledge, so why were Aveline's knickers in such a twist?

"This isn't just some dodgy merchant turf war," Aveline shook her head, trying to be patient with the pirate. "Someone's targeting the girls at The Rose," she whispered, "three so far, all in the last week."

Amber eyes widened in the shadows.

"What happened?" Isabela breathed, bringing the bottle up to her lips. She spent an unhealthy amount of time at The Blooming Rose, propped up against bar and bedpost alike, and it was all too likely that she'd been on first name terms with these women.

"They were gutted," Aveline almost shrugged, trying to put it as simply as possible without having to think about the horrors she'd witnessed at the brothel. "Found in their beds by morning. Everything else was seemingly undisturbed." The knots in her stomach were doing a good job of convincing her she'd be seeing more of this carnage soon enough, and Isabela could then see for herself.

"What, and that's all you're going to give me?" Isabela demanded, anger and alcohol heating her dark skin.

"It wasn't pretty, Isabela..." Aveline told her gently, tentatively laying a hand on the Rivaini's shoulder, half expecting her to slap it away. Surprisingly, she didn't, choosing instead slump back against the crumbling wall behind her.

They stood frozen like that for several minutes, both captains leaning against opposite walls; Isabela glued to her bottle and Aveline comforting her at arm's length. The awkwardness was coming off the Guard-Captain in waves.

"Why would someone do that?" Isabela finally murmured, before she realised that Aveline was still touching her and hastily shimmied away with a cough.

"I don't know why," Aveline's tense shoulders dropped, along with her aching arm, "but what's really getting to me is that I don't know _how_. Since the second killing was reported to us, I've had my men watching that place night and day, and _still_ another girl was discovered this morning. Nobody saw a bloody thing!" she stamped her foot into the dirt. "At least, that's what I'm lead to believe, but I can't get anyone to talk to me to find out any different. That Madam doesn't want any attention brought to this, she says that the guards' 'meddling' is bad for business! And her staff being murdered isn't?" the captain scoffed in disbelief.

"That sounds about right," Isabela rolled her eyes.

"The women are afraid for their lives, and jobs. Too afraid to be seen talking to the Captain of the Guard. I just can't get close enough to find out what they know," Aveline stated. "Somebody must have seen or heard _something_."

"And, let me guess," Isabela batted her lashes, "I'm the familiar face they'll be just dying to confide in?"

"If all goes to plan, there will be less dying involved, but... yes," Aveline admitted. "I'm sure that when this is all over, there will be some kind of... reward," she offered uncertainly, trying to appeal to Isabela's love of all things golden.

"Cozying up to tarts at the expense of the city? Getting them to open up and loosen their tongues for me? Aveline, dear, you spoil me," the pirate purred.

"So you'll help me?" Aveline could barely contain her relief.

"Goodness, no!" Isabela exclaimed, her voice clattering off the walls of the narrow alcove. "I'm helping myself, and don't you forget it," she told the taller woman firmly. "But, if other people happen to benefit from this, then there's simply nothing I can do about that," she said with as straight a face as she could manage.

Aveline scowled, but it didn't reach her eyes. That was the closest thing to a 'yes' she was going to get, and she was grateful for any help that came her way.

"Right, so that's settled then, yes?" Isabela turned on her heel and pushed past her companion, sauntering back into the maze of brick and mud.

"Isabela, wait," Aveline hissed, catching up with the pirate in two long strides, "that's not all," she almost collided with the other woman as she spun around.

"Oh?" Isabela looked up at her expectantly, then began examining her fingernails under a small swatch of moonlight that had, against all odds, filtered through the smog enveloping the city.

"I..." Aveline began, feeling a little foolish even mentioning it, but she carried on gamely, "I keep getting this feeling that I'm being followed," she answered, hesitantly. "That's the reason for all of this," she gestured towards the web of passages that lay before them.

"Oh, you poor thing," Isabela's expression turned from that of disinterest to pity. "Has that dog been sniffing around you again?" she tutted, which earned her a hard shove from even harder hands. _So very worth it._

"Forget it," Aveline muttered as she ushered Isabela back towards what passed for civilisation around here.

Isabela wouldn't budge.

"Come on, big girl, you know I didn't mean it," pearly teeth flashed in the darkness.

"Yes, you did."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" the pirate looked pleased with herself. "Do you think they're related?" she asked in afterthought. "These murders and your new best friend, I mean."

"I'm not sure what to think," Aveline answered truthfully. "If they are, this is starting to spell big trouble."

"And if not, then that's another problem to add to your list," Isabela finished for her. "I'm certainly glad that I'm not you. I'd never get any sex."

Silence.

Aveline was beginning to learn that, just like a barking dog or stroppy child, the best way to deal with Isabela was to simply ignore her. She'd soon get bored and turn her attention elsewhere.

Satisfied with the pout forming on Isabela's pierced bottom lip, Aveline picked up her feet and resumed her journey home. It had been a very long day.

"Could there be magic involved in this? Blood magic?" Isabela whispered after her in an attempt to pique Aveline's interest with something a little more on topic. It wasn't very sportsmanlike to hurl insults out of the blue, after all – she had to start up a conversation before she could strike again.

"I don't know_ what's_ involved," Aveline sighed, stopping abruptly for a second time. "None of it looked particularly ritualistic, but the thought had already crossed my mind. The problem," she continued, "is that I can't rule anything out; it's hardly my area of expertise, and the Knight-Commander would have my head if I took a mage from The Circle on an outing to the local whore house," the captain made a face.

"You know, your friendly, neighbourhood apostates are two bits a dozen, provided you know where to look," Isabela helpfully suggested. "And who to trust..." she added with a grimace, no doubt reminiscing about some magical encounter gone awry. Aveline didn't have the energy to ask her to elaborate.

"Way ahead of you," Aveline announced, trying not to feel smug about having the upper hand. "You didn't think I made Captain by sitting around on my arse all day, did you? Wait, don't answer that," she backtracked.

"Wait a minute... You're not seriously considering asking _Anders_ for help, are you?" Isabela almost choked on the last of her brandy. "What if he decides to seek out a little justice of his own? Not that he'd have to look very far..." she snorted at her own joke.

"And that's exactly why I can't have him involved in this, I just can't trust him not to... _transition_," Aveline agreed, still not fully understanding the mechanics of Anders being host to an angry, parasitic spirit. "But we could always-"

"No," Isabela interrupted.

"You don't even know what I was going to suggest!" Aveline defended, frowning a little.

"Yes, I do. And no, we couldn't," the pirate was putting her foot down on this one. "We leave her alone."

"Merrill's our best shot," the Guard-Captain insisted. "She can just take a quick look around and do whatever it is she does, give us a nod in the right direction. No harm done."

"I don't want her exposed to any of this," Isabela almost shook her headscarf loose.

"So it's not that you're worried we can't trust her, either?" Aveline sounded surprised. "Odd. Every other mage treats her like she's carrying the blight, and even Anders thinks she's way in over her head dealing in blood magic."

"As you said, Aveline, it's hardly your area of expertise," Isabela countered. "She says she knows what she's doing, and I take her at her word. She can handle herself," she spat.

The Guard-Captain couldn't contain her grin any longer and let out a low chuckle.

"Shit," Isabela groaned, realising that Aveline had tricked her into arguing against her own case. "I suppose we'll be paying Merrill a visit, then, won't we?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"You really like her, don't you?" Aveline teased as Isabela stormed past her down the corridor.

"Shut up, prig."


	3. Down You Go

**Author's Note:** First I managed to forget about this story, and then I somehow _misplaced_the rest of what I'd written, so I just wrote this bit of filler for astalavista until I locate the missing chapters. Thank you, and enjoy!

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><p>What Isabela was doing was wrong, there was no doubt about it. More importantly, she <em>knew<em> it was wrong. But, try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from uncrossing her bronzed legs and leaning back against the splintered crate as Merrill dropped to her knees in front of the pirate.

Merrill was by no means an idiot, but she lacked knowledge of the world beyond the safety of her clan, lacked experience in things that Isabela was only too happy to teach. But this wasn't teaching, it was taking advantage. The elf was too easily influenced, and the human had put a lot of time and effort into protecting her from a wide variety of pitfalls that were all too abundant in Kirkwall. So why was she toying with her emotions like this? She should say no, tell her that this had gone far enough now, but all she could do was sink her teeth into her tongue as Merrill's slender fingers trailed down her calves, thumbs ghosting over the length of her shins.

Isabela tried in vain to force the words out of her mouth, screwing her eyes shut in concentration, but there was no turning back as the mage's palms smoothed up over her knees, over her...

"No," Merrill said abruptly, though her hands didn't cease their exploration of Isabela's shapely legs. "I can't," she shook her head, tickling the insides of the older woman's thighs as she peered up from between them, looking like she'd let herself down just as much as Isabela.

"It's okay," Isabela told her gently, cupping the mage's cheek as she tried to look away. "It takes a certain kind of person to be able to pull it off, no questions asked, and I think all of this goes to show that you're just too special for something like that," she reassured her with a promising smile.

"I just... I can't," she sighed again. "I cannot tell the difference," Merrill continued to massage the backs of Isabela's slender ankles. "When did you say you got your Sea Legs again?" she asked curiously, "Did your old ones look any different?"

"Oh, umm..." Isabela fought back another fit of giggles. _This is too good_. "Many years ago," she nodded for emphasis, straining her jaw as she tried to look serious. She shouldn't wind Merrill up like this, but she couldn't help it.

"Was there a ceremony?" Merrill brightened up at the thought, large eyes still fixed on Isabela's left leg as she lifted it from the ground, tentatively flexing the knee joint.

"Of course," Isabela boasted a little too convincingly. "Ceremony, party," she counted off on her fingers, "the lot!"

"You must have been very good at sailoring," Merrill sat back on her hands and watched as the smuggler told her tale. "Can anyone get a pair of Sea Legs, then?"

"Certainly not," Isabela's palm collided with her chest as she made an effort to look hurt, "they're only for the very best," she beamed. "Now, peg legs are much easier to come by, but do you really think one of those would go with my shoes?" she arched an eyebrow in the direction of the boots laying unconscious on the ground.

Merrill's face scrunched up as she tried to imagine said attire on the Rivaini.

"I didn't think so," Isabela gave her a knowing smirk.

"So, umm, what happens if you don't want them anymore?" she inquired.

"Why on earth would I want to get rid of them?" Isabela gasped theatrically, like the very idea was sacreligious.

"I... I don't know," Merrill stammered, afraid she'd offended the pirate. "Perhaps if they got broken or didn't work properly?" she offered.

"True, they can get a little rusty if you don't put them to good use," she told the girl, using her feet to grip Merrill's narrow waist as she reached down to the floor for her pipe, "but a little venture out soon sets things right," she struggled back upright with a groan.

"Can they even get broken?"

"Anything can be broken, kitten," she said wistfully, "but, given time and care, it can also be mended."

Merrill looked relieved; the thought of a broken Isabela made her stomach feel very odd indeed, like it couldn't make up its mind whether to feel hungry or worried.

"A short amount of time, mind you," Isabela added hastily. "Accelerated healing powers. One of the many perks," she winked, trying to make her limbs sound as interesting as possible. _Too much?_

"Oh, well that's good," Merrill breathed, "very handy. Or would it be... leggy?" she almost winced at her own joke, like she was expecting a hard slap to connect with her delicate features.

"Something like that," Isabela rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite contain her childish grin. "Nah," she eventually drawled, patting the tops of her thighs affectionately, "I couldn't get rid of the old girls, we've been through too much together."

"Merrill?" a rather stern voice called out from somewhere to their right, and the elf almost collapsed to the stone paving as her elbows weakened from the shock.

"Looks like you're up," Isabela gave Merrill a small nod of encouragement before shifting around to see Aveline waiting patiently in the doorway of the Blooming Rose.

Both human and elf had almost forgotten their reasons for loitering outside the brothel so early in the morning. Isabela, at least, didn't usually saunter this way until gone noon.

The pirate's colourful anecdotes had kept Merrill distracted long enough for her nerves to settle, but now her stomach was in knots as she thought about entering the crime scene, Isabela's warm hands and smiles doing little to comfort her as she was uprooted from the floor.

"What if I do something wrong?" Merrill turned to Isabela, panicking. "I mean, what if I don't know what to do, or say something stupid? I say stupid things, don't I?"

"Relax," Isabela ruffled the elf's hair, "just follow her lead," she nodded in the Guard-Captain's direction as she stooped to gather her boots. "You'll soon know the ropes like the back of Aveline's hand," she chuckled to herself.

"But I don't know the back of Aveline's hand," Merrill was puzzled. "Her hands are quite large, though, aren't they? I'd never noticed until you said."

"Truer words have never been spoken," she patted the mage on the back, feeling her chest swell with something akin to pride.

"I _can_ hear you," Aveline growled from the doorway, and both women immediately snapped their mouths shut, chests heaving in unison as they snickered in silence.

"Will..." Merrill began after a moment, but hesitated as Isabela ceased her attempts to light her pipe, awarding the elf her full attention. "I mean, would you maybe... come with me?" she requested, wringing her hands nervously like she'd demanded too much and was to now suffer the consequences.

"You don't even have to ask, kitten," Isabela secured her pipe between her teeth and slipped her free arm into Merrill's, dragging her jingling boots behind them as she accompanied the mage to the door.

"I know none of it was true," Merrill whispered as they approached the brothel, "about your legs, I mean, though I'm not quite sure about the lily-liver," she admitted, referring to one of Isabela's earlier fables. "But I liked hearing you talk about it," she smiled up at the pirate. "You sounded happy. It was nice."

"Merrill, dear, you're going to rot my teeth," she planted a chaste kiss on the elf's temple.

"That's... bad? It is, isn't it, it's bad?" Merrill babbled before Isabela clamped a hand over the smaller woman's mouth, laughing heartily.

"Come on," she tugged Merrill past Aveline and over the threshold, "it's show time."


End file.
